


A Traveler's Diet

by missanotherboat



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who: Virgin New Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Novel: Transit, Smithwood Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11444325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missanotherboat/pseuds/missanotherboat
Summary: A traveler’s diet is a tricky thing.





	A Traveler's Diet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Smithwood Manor scenes in the novel _Transit_ by Ben Aaronovitch. Written for the prompt "first thing's first" at who_allsorts on Dreamwidth.

The Doctor nimbly caught a large, cerulean protoonion that threatened to roll off the counter. Placing it back amongst the groceries, he carried a sizable basket of vegetables into the larder. He hadn’t realized just how barren Smithwood Manor was in this period until he tried to cook a decent meal for more people than just himself and Ace.

He fleetingly reminded himself that he needed to travel to an earlier time and clear the possessions Ace had left in her room in the house. There were enough rooms in Smithwood Manor that he didn’t have to do such tasks often, but he had done it after Jo left and when Adric died, keeping a few of their mementos in the TARDIS and seeing that the extra clothes went to places where they could be more useful than in the TARDIS wardrobe. It had given him closure. But things were different then. The stakes weren’t quite so high. Closure – even the thought of it – was naïve.

Sighing gently, the Doctor shut the larder door. He’d visited all his favorite markets throughout the galaxies, testing Benny on her botany and gathering all the exotic ingredients he remembered using at a later, linear date. A traveler’s diet could be a tricky thing, but he had gotten used to restocking the house here and there for later (and earlier) use.

The Doctor was staring into the chilly ether of the refrigerator, searching for a place to put a selection of tubers that possessed their own mouse-like guardian. Rhythmically moving a tail that was just slightly too pink to be flesh-colored, it tutted disapprovingly as the Doctor placed it near the back of the top shelf. He examined the rest of the fridge’s contents: some baking soda (powder? he made a note to check at some point), a few prepackaged cheese slices, and some assorted packets of smoked digimeats for guests.

His gaze fell on two cans of nitro-nine in the corner. ‘Vintage, eh?’ he mumbled to the guardian mouse, who once again voiced its displeasure through gritted fangs below a furrowed brow. The Doctor grabbed both cans and closed the door.

The sound caused Benny to jump. The Doctor smiled at her. ‘Awoken from our stupor, I see.’

‘I’ll have you know I’ve never been in a “stupor” in my entire life. This is what the French should have called _la petite mort_ , and what I call an alien liquor hangover.’ She leaned across the counter, running her hands over her face.

‘The little death…’ the Doctor considered. ‘I believe they used that to refer to lovemaking, actually.’

Benny rolled her eyes. ‘I said _should have_. I feel much closer to death now than I ever have during…oh, whatever.’ She groaned. The kitchen door was open. She didn’t remember the door being there last time, but that was far from the strangest thing about the house.

The door let in a breeze that was neither hot nor cold, and it irritated her greatly. She stood up quickly and bumbled across the room in what some cultures might describe as a stupor in order to close it. Flinching from the sound produced by slamming the door just a bit too hard, she turned back to the Doctor. ‘Ready to hit the road, then?’

The Doctor nodded, placing the cans into a brown paper bag, rolling it closed, and leading the way downstairs. The basement was piled with indiscriminate items, and dark with the exception of a small window near the ceiling and a single flickering lightbulb.

Shuffling across the undeterminably dusty floor, the Doctor whistled to himself. Benny vaguely recognized the tune, but decided not to dignify the Doctor’s fascination with latter-day Captain and Tennille. He cradled the bag gently as he pushed his way through the TARDIS doors.

Benny numbly followed, but paused in front of a sizable chest topped by two golden angel statues. Benny furrowed her brow. ‘Is that…?’

Standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, the Doctor smiled. ‘Another story, another time…another universe, probably. Come along.’

Benny sat down beside the console and buried her head in her hands. ‘Say, do you happen to know how we might locate the planet of the headache cures? Doctor?’ She looked up to see that he had vanished and sighed.

Inside the labyrinthine corridors of the TARDIS, the Doctor placed the cans inside a cooling unit, careful not to handle them too roughly.

It was impossible to know if they would be of any use, but he did know that he didn’t remember seeing them in the future.


End file.
